


don't know how but i'm taller (see our reflection in the water)

by kerberastro



Series: allshine tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, chill times at the crick :'), real meemaw-daughter bonding hours, writing prompt from Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerberastro/pseuds/kerberastro
Summary: anonymous asked: Allshine + language of flowers. Moonshine druid crafts something beautiful for Alanis in her unique manner.title is from garden song by phoebe bridgers!! (aka The moonshine cybin song)
Relationships: Alanis/Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast)
Series: allshine tumblr prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719964
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	don't know how but i'm taller (see our reflection in the water)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you anon for the prompt and sorry this took soooo long!! i'm always taking writing prompts over on tumblr, hmu @jolenethegreen if u wanna :)

A gentle breeze rustles the mountainous trees that line the shores of the Crick as sunlight cuts through their leaves, creating pockets of warm, golden sunlight all throughout the neighbourhood. It’s a summer afternoon, which would usually be hot and sticky in the Crick’s neck of the woods, but the slight breeze is just enough to balance it out and make for a beautiful day to be out and about. 

Moonshine and Alanis sit side by side on the mossy ledge of a large rock that overlooks the babbling water of the Crick, and is currently playing home to a bright sunspot. Alanis, remarkably, can feel herself dozing off, leaning her head on Moonshine’s shoulder. As an elf, Alanis doesn’t need to sleep, and she never sleeps, but she  _ can _ if she wants to. So she does. She’s tired, tired from  _ everything _ , and only now is it finally sinking in that she’s damn near exhausted as she leans against Moonshine’s soft, yet sturdy presence. 

Beside her, Moonshine hums a quiet melody under her breath. To her right side, where Alanis isn’t currently leaning on her, she casts a cantrip, and with a wave of her hand, two tiny patches of flowers blossom from a spot in a patch of moss; one grows sweet-smelling white blooms of baby’s breath, while the other creates a small bushel of sprigs of lavender; two flowers that don’t often grow naturally at the Crick. She plucks one of each from the bases of their stems, and begins to loop them around one another, then she pulls them tight, and repeats. 

She recalls sitting cross-legged in her Meemaw’s yard as a youngin, all grass stained overalls and braids barely staying intact. She watched intently as her mother carefully threaded together daffodils and forget-me-nots, careful not to break their delicate stems. She would remind Moonshine, “ _ Now, be gentle, these stems all need to hold tight onto each other if they wanna make somethin’ beautiful.”  _ Moonshine watched her mother’s hands, skilled and quick, trying to catch onto her method,  _ what was her secret? How’d she get them leaves to poke up in the prettiest way?  _

As she wove away with the flowers, she said, “Y’know, Moonshine, these things are real precious. It’s not so much of a tradition, but more like a special gesture down here at the Crick, to make one of these for someone you’re real dang fond of,” she explained. “Now I’ve given and received a couple in my lifetime, and y’know what? Maybe someday, you’ll get to do the same. So consider this your very first one.” 

Then, she held up a small circlet, something of a wreath, covered with beautiful blossoms from her garden, and placed it atop Moonshine’s head. “There y’are, sweetheart, pretty as a peach.” She said, and a teeny tiny Moonshine had beamed a wide, gap-toothed grin when she’d caught her reflection in the Crick, a crown of blues and yellows in amongst scruffy red curls. 

Now, a much older Moonshine is attempting to replicate what her Meemaw made for her all those years ago. With one final twist and a little tug, it’s finished. It’s a little bigger than she’d intended for it to be, and it has a bit of a dip in the middle, but the colours are gorgeous, and she smiles at her creation. She lays it on her lap and gives Alanis a gentle shake to wake her.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she mutters. “Mornin’.”

“It’s like, midday.” Alanis corrects her, a bit playfully, and she rubs her eyes as they adjust to the light. 

Moonshine turns to meet her gaze, and Alanis looks up at her. “Made you something.” Moonshine says, looking down at the flowers in her lap briefly. “My Meemaw showed me a while back. It’s not perfect, but I think it’ll look mighty pretty on you.” 

Alanis looks down at it, her eyes wide. “Shit, Moonshine, it’s beautiful,” she muses, idly pinching off a lavender bud with her thumb and forefinger and rolling it between them. “Wait, this is like, a courting thing here, right?” She asks, smiling a bit cheekily. 

Moonshine’s cheeks flush, “Oh! No, uh. I don’t think it’s that  _ concrete, _ no. But I mean, it can be? It certainly can be. Do you… want it to be?” 

“You tell me.”

After a beat, Moonshine slowly nods, and Alanis smiles. 

“Want me to… crown you?” Moonshine asks with a quiet laugh, holding up the circlet. Alanis laughs, too. She doesn’t reply, only bows her head towards Moonshine, who gently places the circlet on her head, careful not to mess with her hair too much. It’s a little lopsided, but something about it is endearing and sweet.

“There y’are,” Moonshine says, tucking a couple of stray ringlets behind Alanis’ pointed ears on both sides as she echoes what her Meemaw had once said to her. “Pretty as a peach.” She notes how she is starting to sound like her mother in her voice and inflections. She decides that’s a good thing. 

And then, in a way that Moonshine is all too familiar with, Alanis gingerly moves towards the edge of the stone and peers down into the Crick, and Moonshine watches a soft smile cross her face as she catches her reflection in the water; a crown of purple and white in amongst, not scruffy, but more wind-tousled black curls. 


End file.
